


Burn the Pads of My Fingers

by madamewriterofwrongs



Series: Tumblr Posts [14]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Getting Together, Introspection, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:07:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26568535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamewriterofwrongs/pseuds/madamewriterofwrongs
Summary: Touch has always been important to Buck and Eddie. It seems natural that their love would be expressed through their fingers.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Series: Tumblr Posts [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875451
Comments: 17
Kudos: 203





	Burn the Pads of My Fingers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tkreyesevandiaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tkreyesevandiaz/gifts).



> Written as a birthday present for zeethebooknerd on tumblr <3 Happy Birthday, darling!!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Check out my [tumblr](http://madamewriterofwrongs.tumblr.com)

Buck was a very tactile person – always was. Being able to touch the person he was with was his gentle reminder that they were there, that they weren’t leaving. Of course, they always did leave him but for that one moment when they were laying in his arms or catching their breath after a particularly satisfying romp (which was always, thank you very much), he could touch them and know they were connected. And he never minded all that much. He was an attractive man who liked to have sex and sure, some of the women he wouldn’t mind getting to know better, but it was never about the emotional connection, his sexcapades. He just liked to feel. If he could hug his friends and give pleasure to his partners, that was more than enough.

Eddie was the opposite in some aspects. He’d grown up around a group of women who were affectionate with their touches but he was reminded that cheek kisses and flopping in someone’s lap were not something he was allowed to do. The military had trained the rest of it out but it never felt right: not touching the person he was with. So many times, he would reach out to touch Shannon in her sleep – sweep her hair behind her ear so he could gentle stroke her face – but would stop at the last minute and go get a drink of water. Christopher had the same instincts as Eddie, except he had two parents who weren’t against his constant affection. In fact, it reminded Eddie that he was allowed to change.

The beautiful thing about the crew of the 118 was their open affection with one another. It was so common to find them hugging, or patting shoulders, or knocking foreheads, or manhandling one another on the couch over a video game. On more than one occasion, Bobby had to break up a food fight over the smallest things, but it was worth the scolding to keep up the familial comradery. They looked out for one another; sometimes that meant giving each other comfort or making sure they were taking care of their physical wellbeing. Hen loved to run her hands through people’s hair after a bad call (it was a comfort for both of them to feel that connection). Chimney was a little more standoffish, choosing to simply sit next to those in pain, his presence a reminder that they weren’t alone and could reach out if they wanted.

Buck was the first to try and make his teammates smile after a bad call. He’d tell them about a ridiculous call where a woman got her foot stuck in a vending machine trying to get her snack out of the flap, or he’d physically flop on the couch, sticking his face in their lap (or his feet in their face, if it was Eddie or Chimney) just to get a distracted smile. Eddie, much like Chimney, preferred to let people come to him. He was more than happy to join in a celebratory group hug or pat on the back after a good call but if someone was hurting, his hand would hover over their shoulder, uncertain whether any foreign touch would be welcome while they spiraled into darkness. He was always right by their side with comforting words and an open palm, but they had to acknowledge their desire for that affection first.

The only person he ever changed tactics for, was Buck. As partners, he learned how much Buck needed to be physically grounded constantly. Eddie was good at that: he could put a hand on someone’s shoulder, binding them to the earth, and let all of his positive energy flow into them. He still hesitated a little when it came to offering comfort after bad calls but he was getting better. When they weren’t at the station, it was easier to bump shoulders at the bar, pull Buck’s aching leg into his lap while they watched tv on the couch, hold their hugs for a little too long as they stood in the door at the end of the night.

It seemed inevitable that they would drift together over time. As their emotional comfort for one another grew, so did their physical affection.

The call had gone horribly wrong. They had tried so hard but they couldn’t save everyone and many people lost their lives. The silence of their journey back to the station absorbed even the sound of the engine under their feet. As they climbed out (knowing many of them still had a few hours left on their shift), Bobby suggested passing off calls for a little while and asked everyone to call their loved ones and get some sleep. He didn’t have the heart to tell them to compartmentalize just yet, giving his team a firm nod before ducking into his office to call his wife.

After passing his phone off to Chimney so he could talk to Maddie, Buck found himself wandering into the common area instead of straight to the bunks. He was absolutely exhausted but he didn’t have it in him to sleep. Not when his mind was so loud, filled with the echoes of everything they could have done differently, even knowing that it would always end the same way. Eddie was sitting on one end of the couch, phone pressed to his ear as he tearily listened to his son tell him all about his day. Rather than interrupting their conversation (despite his own desire to speak to the boy), Buck sat down next to Eddie, arm tucking around the back of the couch. The other man’s response was nearly instinctual, tucking into Buck’s side, the hand on the couch falling to Eddie’s shoulder as he did. His focus was still locked on the sound of Christopher’s voice but he drifted further into Buck’s embrace as the phone call continued. By the time his son had declared that it was time to go to bed, Eddie’s head was resting on Buck’s shoulder and his partner’s hand had come to rest just behind his ear. A quick ‘thank you’ to his grandmother was enough for Eddie to relax fully, his head falling into Buck’s chest as he tossed the phone onto his lap.

Neither of them spoke, the sounds of the station slowly returning to their consciousness after the deafening quiet of their guilt. Yet, they still felt a bubble surrounding their place on the couch. Here, it was just Buck and Eddie; no tragedies or responsibilities. Just peace. Here, it was safe for Buck to run his nails through Eddie’s hair, massaging his scalp and pulling at the carefully constructed coif until he could practically feel him purring under his touch. In truth, Eddie had let his eyes fall closed, giving himself over to the soothing touch, and humming in satisfaction.

Buck loved Eddie’s longer hair. More accurately, he loved running his fingers through Eddie’s longer hair. There was more to touch and play with; he could curl his digits around a few strands and create entire worlds with a few presses of his nails. He liked to think that Eddie was calmer with Buck, more pliant and at ease when he let his partner touch him. He took extra pride in the thought that no one else got to see this version of Eddie: only Buck could bring this out in him; only Buck could bring him comfort like this.

After all: Eddie would never fall asleep on just anyone’s shoulder. Resting his head on that brown wavy mess, was the most comfortable sleep Buck had felt in ages.

He always thought that the physical connection was enough for him, but the tight ache in his heart whenever he felt Eddie sigh under his massaging fingers told him that he needed more. He wanted more. There was no one else’s hair he wanted to play with.

On his loneliest nights, he wanted to burn the pads of his fingers so the last thing they ever felt was Eddie’s hair, soft and cool in the September air.

On his happiest nights, he would fall asleep with one hand scratching the back of his partner’s neck, and the other resting on his chest; his ring glinting in the moonlight.

Even if that time didn’t come for many years, Buck’s desire to bring comfort with a single touch only grew from that first moment as they held each other on the couch and discovered how deeply they craved that specific affection. It was affection that could only come from that one person who meant the most to them – who knew them better than anyone else and they could trust with their most vulnerable selves.

Touch had always been so important to both Buck and Eddie, but it took one awful call to realize how much it meant coming from the person they wanted to spend their lives with. Then it seemed like the most obvious thing in the world. There was no one else that could love them so much with such a simple touch.


End file.
